winds esker               
  
                                          
 there was this place that for two  years 
 i  couldn't go  to.  regardless how much 
 discussed  with  others,  or pointed out 
 on maps, i  could  not think of it  when 
 alone.  i would  often travel  past  the 
 fork, where  a right turn  would  surely 
 take me there,  but even then, something 
               kept me away.              
                                          
 when  i finally  got there,  after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the  place  was  surreal.   an 
 esker, like  a needle-thin  rift out  in 
 the  lake,  but  ten  meters   high  and 
 adorned  in  birch, willow, bracken, and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice  the view  to  either side. there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't  recognize  them. first off, they 
 were much too  close, as the lake should 
 stretch  for a  hundred  meters more  on 
 both  sides.  but  now  i felt  i  could 
 almost  reach out  and  touch them.  and 
 then, when i  realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they were of  the right  lake.  but this 
       lake is large, fractured, and      
 bipartite.  like a  pair of lungs carved 
 into the granite,  and with no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
    impossibly close shores, i slowly     
 understood them as belonging  many miles 
                  away.                   
                                          
 i  examined  the  ridge,  the   treeline 
 above. was this  what you saw  opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                remember.                 
                                          
 carrying  forward,  on  the  very tip of 
 the  esker,  i found  the ruins  of some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
 marble staircases, stone floors beneath  
 the  moss,  and  strange slabs  inserted 
 into  the  slope  like dams  against the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there,  i could  see across  the 
 narrowed  lake my entire path to where i 
 sat: from the  stairwell  of  my  house, 
 through  the old  woods behind  the tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and then  back  under  it, 
 through  the  fancy  villas,   over  the 
 fields, and then that right  turn at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and then  the stairs  up  on the  ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this  was  probably it. 
 hidden in a  grove,  there  were  stairs 
 much like  the ones  i currently sat on, 
 old  and  worn down,  that lead  you  up 
 onto the esker. the point of  entry. had 
 i insted opted to  walk the path at  its 
 foot, i'm  sure  my  experience would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the  lake,  there  were   people  in 
 boats. i wondered,  could they  even see 
 me?  if  i shouted,  would they turn  to 
          stare right through me?